“Oooooh, Nashville is the cool place to be now!”
But it’s the way they say it as soon as they find out it’s where I’m from. Like the cool factor might have something to do with my not being there. It’s as if they have just whispered into your ear that your ex-boyfriend is really hot. Yes, he was. But NO, NO, NO.
His eyes were too brown, and he had bad breath after eating onions, and sometimes I saw him dance on his tippy toes. (You have to say it in past tense as if he has died.) These excuses are necessary remedies for getting over an ex, a defense mechanism protecting your final remnant of self-image.
Nashville had turned into a town of coffee snobs. Even my favorite one stopped selling me white hot chocolates. I took it personally and had to go.
This is what I tell them when they ask me why I’m in New York. Well, that, and the fact that it’s the center of the ad world and also an eccentrically beautiful place to live.
But I focus on the coffee snobs, so that they know not to tell me how beautiful my ex is again.
The truth is - Nashville is a wonderful place. To live, to visit, to read about. Every day there are 2 new world class restaurants opening it seems. Still the home cooking will always be better.
This past Thanksgiving was no exception.
As independent as I may feel right now, I still haven’t arrived at the point of self-sufficiency in life where I pack four days worth of food into my travel luggage. You know those people who you vacation with - they open up their suitcases to show two packed bikinis and 42 snacks ranging from Swiss Cake Rolls and Goldfish to Sister Schubert rolls and dry-frozen Salmon.
This is not me. I need my cargo room for 2 pairs of boots, black and brown, flip flops, sneakers, and of course some dressy ones, black, brown and another indistinguishable color that goes with everything and nothing at the same time depending on my mood. Due to my shoes over snacks theorem, I must then subject myself to eating foods that can be scavenged upon my arrival at any said destination.
But the best part about coming home (besides the people of course!) is what I find in the cabinets here. No doubt mom has filled them with everything she can remember that I liked in hopes that I might be comfortable (I read: fat) during my stay.
Nevermind the fact that I haven’t drank Dr. Pepper in years, there were those ten years when it was my religion. So I always find it fully stocked in the downstairs fridge. The sight of DP stirs up alcoholic-like tendencies in my veins that beg me to drain the cans.
Sometimes I do. And other times, I still do. If any one of these food items is left untouched for 2 or more visits, those items will certainly disappear and be banished from ever re-appearing in mom’s kitchen again. Those foods have failed to make me comfortable she must think. But I make sure to eat them all so that each snack feels loved.
My body is no longer built for this massive inhale of calories, but that doesn’t keep me from trying to turn back time. Growing up, we could drink a gallon of water or we could eat an entire chocolate cake and the results would be the same. Now when we eat a slice of cake, we balloon to an exponential size, like those little animal capsules that sprout when placed in water.
Three-hundred and sixty five days - and I’d like to underline each one of them. One year in many ways feels like one month, feels like a decade. It’s been nothing like the expectations I had laid out in my head, but much more. Coming home makes for good reflecting time away from the city.
The past one year has been a rollercoaster of courage, fear, faith, loneliness, meditation, gratitude, joy and pure freedom embedded within new experiences, friends, job, home, and a new mindset.
Above all else, gratitude sticks out the most, and hopefully not just because of Thanksgiving. I never thought that I would be where I am today. Not just in New York City, but living in my own skin. They say it’s part of growing up, but I never dreamed that I would have such wonderful friends and family who just understand, or just try to understand. They make a world of difference. I never thought that I would have the opportunities that I’ve had to date. The way that everything that has happened previously feels as though it was leading up to this moment. I am grateful for a life fully lived the way I only dreamed before.
Life never meets our expectations. But if we are open to it, life will exceed them. After all, it’s not about the experiences we find ourselves in. But how we use them to better ourselves. No matter what situation you find yourself in this week, there’s an opportunity to focus on how you can make your situation a teacher. There is growth to be gained in each day whether you’re sitting at home, or sitting in on a train a thousand miles away.
The clouds of uncertainty fill the air, misunderstood as burden instead of blessing. An excuse spent planning for death instead of purpose for living. The dreadful fogs of the unknown could bring us such peace but we use them as tools for worry. If you can change your outlook, you will change your life.
Love y’all.